


Umbra

by yonnna



Category: Baccano!
Genre: It's not described but references to what happens to maribel, gardi exists, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonnna/pseuds/yonnna
Summary: Esperanza is content to be Lotto Valentino's clown.Written for the prompt "Umbra: Shadow".





	

They call him the Clown Count, and everyone expects that he despises the epithet, that he feels mocked, belittled, but he is grateful — grateful that when they see him they think of his escapades with women, his political inexperience, his eccentric appearance, his absurdity, and not of his banishment, not of his shame or his guilt, not of the fact that he lives and they did not. 

The shadows under his eyes are clouds shrouding moonlight, and he draws his own stars beneath them; if he cannot erase the dark, he will drown it with whatever light he can find.

That night he is not a clown, and they are old friends. All noble sons are _old friends_ for political purposes, but there is some truth in it. He is youthful and sheltered, and he does not know ugliness when it looks him in the face. It looks him in the face, and he sees a young man, someone familiar in a sea of politics and courtship. He has been fortunate in his life so far; he does not know ugliness. He does not know he is surrounded by it, and not knowing what he does not know — they behave as friends. 

They laugh, they drink; young, but not too young for wine. They talk of beautiful women — Esperanza says that Lady Dormentaire is quite remarkable, and Gardi says he does not notice such things about his mother. Gardi comments that Maribel is growing to be fair, and Esperanza considers this with his own innocence and tells him that his sister is a wonderful girl. She is kind and sociable and intelligent, and if she grows to be fair she will be fair but either way, he assures, she is a wonderful girl. 

Sometimes he wonders, if he had told him that she was vile, that she was grotesque, that she was deformed in ways that she cleverly hid. If he had lied — would it have been enough to save her?

That night the sky is overcast, and he searches through the shadows to find stars. He should be dancing, but like stars he finds that women are too beautiful to touch, and he is content just to see them burn so brightly. 

That night, he learns that if women are stars, men are the clouds that cast shadows over them. It is a lesson that he takes to heart. 

Esperanza would die if it meant slaying a monster to save an innocent woman. This has always been so. What he learns that night is that monsters are not so easy to spot; sometimes they do not have scales and horns, sometimes they wear fine clothes and speak politely, sometimes they look like a gentleman. Sometimes they look like an old friend. 

He is built out of regrets. Regret that he did not help her. Regret that he did not know she needed helping. Regret that he could not save them. Regret that the moment a monster reared its head, he was not there to slay it. 

That night, he learns that he is not suited to be a knight; he cannot fight off the shadows, he cannot save anyone, and he can search for the stars in the darkness but he is never close enough to protect their light. 

It is too late when the Dormentaire servent comes to inform him of what transpired. Maribel is not Maribel when he next sees her. He thanks god that at least she lives, but every day he wishes that she were truly here. 

He knows that it is not his fault that he lost his family, but if he had been there, he would not have lost them, and in this sense he is complicit. The guilt casts a shadow on every moment of that night; every moment he had then enjoyed himself is now a question — what if he had done things differently? If he had lied, if he had drank less wine, if he had stayed with Maribel, if he had watched Gardi more closely, if he had danced, if he had seen them leave, if he had done a thousand things he didn’t do — would it have been enough? 

There is no way of knowing, but this much is clear: 

He is not a hero, and he is blessed that Lotto Valentino allows him to be a jester; rather a jester than a villain. 


End file.
